


Common Sense

by fistfight



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, takes place sometime during season 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fistfight/pseuds/fistfight
Summary: Morty decides he's had enough of Rick acting like he runs the world.Rick would be amused with Morty's change in attitude, if it wasn't so damn annoying.





	1. Chapter 1

 

  
"Morty, go get that-get that rock we dropped back there."

Morty looked over to the general direction Rick waved his arm in, squinting into the horizon.

"Th-there's nothing there, Rick. Can we go home now?"

Morty felt himself tense up as Rick abruptly stood up from where he was leaning against the ship. Morty didn't turn around, but he could hear him getting closer, the pebbles on the ground crunching together with each angry step Rick took.

"Do I have to do fucking everything myself, Morty?" He grabbed Morty by the shoulders and squeezed, hard. "I knew you were dumb, but I didn't think you were blind, too."

He sharply yanked Morty over to their left, in front of a small body of dull green liquid about twenty feet away. Morty could feel Rick's hands making bruises, but didn't tell him to let go.

"In the pond, dumbass," he said, and pushed Morty forward. He stumbled a little bit and tried to ignore Rick's laugh when he almost didn't catch himself.

Morty approached the pond, peering over the edge to look for what he'd apparently lost. He threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure Rick wasn't about to push him in, relieved when he was still by the ship, fiddling with his flask.

The rock gave off the same faint neon glow submerged as it did in plain air, and Morty was able to find it easily, fortunately just on the edge of the water. He knelt down in front of it and started to put his hand underneath to try and grab it.

As soon as his fingers touched the water, he yanked them back out, feverently drying them off against his shirt.

"Rick!" he yelled, as his eyes watered from the pain. "It's _acidic_!"

Morty heard nothing for a second, and then Rick's footsteps, as he slowly walked over to him. Morty scrambled away from the pond, afraid that this time, Rick would push him in.

" _Duh_ , Morty. That's why it burnt you." Rick rolled his eyes and took a swig from his flask, rocking back on his heels.

"So," Morty tried, despite his grandfather's patronizing act, "How do I get it out?"

"Jesus Christ, Morty. With your hand, same way you were fucking doing before."

Morty looked up at Rick. "Rick, it burnt me. You, y-y-you think I'm that stupid, that I just forgot about that already?"

"I know it burnt you, Morty. That's fine. I got shit to fix that Morty. Shit to make it all better, Morty. But I need that fucking rock, and I need _you_ to get it."

Morty looked up at him again, the slight scowl his mouth was set into showing him he'd better not fuck around. Feeling like some sort of sick animal, he crawled back over to the edge and hovered his hand above the surface.

"Just g-get it over with, Morty. This planet gets cold as balls after sunset."

And that was it. Morty knew there was no point arguing, that they would either stay   bantering back and forth on this planet until Morty gave in or worse. He could picture it, Rick leaning behind him, using one hand to push his head down until his nose brushed the surface and the other to shove his arm into the water. 

So. No use in prolonging the inevitable.

Morty bit his lip and shoved his hand in, the pain so intense he was sure his hand had melted away and there was nothing left but bone. It was deeper than he thought, and he hand to lean in further, getting the acid up to his elbows before he could even brush the rock with his fingers. The searing pain was so severe he couldn't see anything beyond a sudden waterfall of tears, and he had to blindly feel around until he got a good grip on the rock.

When he yanked his hand out, he was too scared to even try to look at it, certain all the flesh had burnt off. He dropped the rock on the rocks by Rick's feet, who used his lab coat to pick it up and wipe it off on Morty's shirt as he writhed against the ground. Rick dropped the rock in his pocket and took out his flask to take a swig.

Morty lay on his side, squirming and twitching with his burnt arm extended over the cool pebbles. By Rick's noise of disgust, he may have been sobbing, which was a one way ticket to lose any sympathy Rick might have had for him.

"P-p-please, help me Rick, pl-please, please," Morty trailed off, lacking the energy and focus to finish a sentence. He tried to distract himself with the color of the sunset or the texture of the rocks or the dropping temperature, but his brain kept defaulting to his fucking arm.

Rick nudged his side with his shoe. "Get up, Morty." he said, sounding almost bored. "It's getting cold."

Morty did his best to nod and comply, shakily getting up to his knees. Rick grabbed his good arm and helped him up, either out of compassion or impatience.

They walked the short distance next to each other, Rick slowing his usually fast pace to keep time with Morty's dragging feet.

"Lemme see your arm," Rick said, voice slower, warmer than before.

Morty held up his damaged arm to Rick, feeling the tremors shake through to his shoulder.

"You sure got a fucked up arm, dawg," Rick said. Morty knew he was supposed to laugh, and he wanted to.

"Ha," he muttered instead, trying to sound amused.

Back at the ship, Morty stood awkwardly to the side with his arm hanging lamely as Rick dug around for whatever would fix it, throwing empty glass bottles out behind him as he searched.

The pain was still bad by the time Rick came back with a bottle of beer and a bottle of something else, but had changed from burning to a numb coldness.

"Hold it out again, Morty."

Finally, Morty got the guts to look at it. His arm was red and blistering, a light pink at his bicep intensifying to a bloody red and his hand. It looked like it was full of craters, like some over the top Halloween makeup he'd seen online.

Rick drank from the beer bottle and put some powder from his pocket in the something else, before dousing Morty's burns with it.

Morty stared as the skin cells grew and spread, taking his arm back like ink dropped into water. The pain faded into tingling and then into nothing at all.

"Th-thanks, Rick." he said, not looking away from his arm.

A beat passed. Morty felt his heart speed up with the silence.

"Yeah, try not to drop my shit next time and that might not happen." Rick said, before getting in the ship and slamming the door.

Morty grit his teeth, feeling the sudden change in mood like a punch in the gut. He knew this was coming, because it always was, on Rick's stupid emotional roller coaster.

He stomped over to his side of the ship and got in, pulling the door shut hard enough to rattle the whole thing.

Rick sneered at him and took off.

"Wait, wait, okay, th-this is my fault, Rick? You were the one who needed this stupid fucking rock, and I, I-I-I don't even know what for, probably like, drugs, or some fucked up shit like that. Don't even fucking tell me, alright? I'm j-just, just so fucking pissed, Rick. Y-y-you always act like this, you're so _mean_ , Rick. I'm sick of it. Sick of all your shit, Rick."

Rick didn't respond.

He didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, leaving Morty's anxiety to grow and fester in complete silence.

When they got home, Morty tried to slip out of the ship and into his room to let the issue dissolve.

Before he could even get a foot out of the ship, Rick dragged the collar of his shirt and pulled him close.

"Listen," Rick said, letting go of Morty's shirt and grabbing his face to bring it closer to his, "If your mom wasn't home, I'd be yelling at you right now. I know your brain doesn't have enough power to act rationally, but I thought you would at least be smart enough to shut up for once in your fucking life."

Morty swallowed and looked away. He regained eye contact when Rick squeezed harder.

"First of all, you should be grateful I bother to take you anywhere, given how often you fuck everything up. Second, I'm not fucking mean, Morty. Not by a long shot. I could, ha, I fucking _should_ go out to some other dimension and get another Morty whose Rick was reasonable enough to abandon him, put you in his Rickless place and take him on adventures. You're too stupid to understand abandonment issues, Morty, but you'd kill yourself if you were left alone for more than a week, believe me. It's a fucking shock to me you weren't dead by the time I first showed up, considering you still don't have any friends."

Rick let go of Morty's face. Morty knew better than to look away this time. He could feel tears pushing into his eyes and tried to blink them back. 

"What's your life without me, Morty? What do you do at school besides get pushed around like a fucking ragdoll? You're-youre too stupid to learn jack shit and you're too weird to get people to like you."

Morty swallowed audibly. He could feel tears falling now, slowly dropping off his face.

Rick cackled. "You're crying now? Jesus Christ, Morty it's just the truth, alright? Just the truth. Go on upstairs now, c'mon, being dumb isn't the end of the world, Morty. Don't be a baby."

Rick smiled wickedly.

Morty didn't move.

He sat completely still as Rick touseled his hair and then left the ship, when he worked in the garage for another half hour, or when he turned out the light to go upstairs.

Morty sat in the dark for another half hour before leaving, still in a daze.

On his way to his room, he walked past his mom in the kitchen, who got up early to make coffee and read.

"What are you doing up, sweetie?" She asked, not looking up.

"I, I um, fell asleep in Rick's ship." he lied quickly.

Beth closed her book and set it down. "Nice of him not to wake you. He's usually so loud," she said. "Are you hungry?"

Nice of him, Morty thought absently.

"I'm okay, thanks Mom. I'm gonna, gonna go back to bed, alright?"

"Alright," she said, and picked up her book again.

Morty looked at her for a second, thinking of how she would look to a different version of himself.

In his room, couldn't fall asleep.

Rick called him again around noon, since it was a Saturday, but Morty pretended to be unconscious when Rick came in to shake him awake.

Rick, given all his intelligence, definitely knew he was awake, and Morty, given all his stupidity, wasn't smart enough to think about what Rick would plan for Morty ignoring him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Morty finally decides to leave his room at two, after a stressful period of trying to feign unconsciousness. His mind sped past rationality and straight to paranoia, thinking up listening devices or microscopic cameras Rick might have planted in his room to monitor his activity. All he could bring himself to do was lay silently, until he felt so overwhelmed from the stress his body couldn't take being still anymore.

He thinks he heard his mom and dad go out around one, but the silence in the house tells him they aren't back yet. Morty walks to the bathroom to take a cold shower, hoping it will jolt him into thinking straight.

Not to mention, any liquid that comes anywhere near a burning sensation (lukewarm water qualifying) is out of the question for as long as possible.

He undressed quickly and gets in the shower, flinching at the temperature. The way it gets harder to breathe when he stands under the water reminds him of the way anxiety hijacks his respiratory system when Rick goes too far with a joke or a threat, and the thought of Rick makes his eyes snap to his arm. He grabs it with his other hand to make sure it was reals and that Rick didn't invent liquid holograms, and tries not to be impressed with how well Rick's invention worked.

Fucking Rick, abusing the shit out of his intelligence just to fuck with everyone. Morty rubs in Summer’s expensive shower gel she tells him not to use, and he plays with the thought of being smart like his grandpa to come up with a plan good enough to make him stop throwing him around like a ragdoll.

Morty, as he lathers shampoo into his hair, mentally curses how he can't even achieve basic hygiene without the idea of his Rick popping up in his mind. An uncomfortable persistent thought that did nothing but add a layer of stress to Morty’s already towering stack of misery.

He finishes showering and dries off, melting into the towel as it warmed his goosebump-stricken skin.

He hears the front door open and a chill returns.

When he hears the arguing voices of his parents, he finds a strange relief. Better than facing Rick, he thinks.

As their shouting gets more intense, Morty’s one-track mind switches its train of thought to the thought of their separation, which Summer seemed to be bringing up more often. Like she expected it, but wanted to act like she was above any family issue. She always scoffed at Morty when he got upset about it.

Then again, so would his parents, insisting nothing was wrong and that he was overreacting.

Now that he thinks of it, Rick is really the only one that would ever listen, and that was behind absent muttering while he worked in his lab as Morty rambled.

He finally leaves the bathroom and gets dressed. He can hear his parents fighting from the kitchen, so he walks past them without even looking in the room. He tries to watch T.V., but their arguing, now subsided into angry whispers, somehow permeates the volume no matter how much he raises it, and he eventually turns it off in frustration to find something else to do.

Rick's bedroom door, as usual, is shut, but as he walks past the garage, he peers through the open door (out of habit, he tells himself, to see if Rick is in there).

He's not.

Morty doesn't let himself feel anything about that.

Still, with a lack of family and friends to talk to, Morty's really shit out of luck.

He goes back to his room and sits at his desk, eyeing his homework. He opens his math notebook and opens the textbook, too, but ends up filling a page with doodles of aliens and sci-fi guns before he even flips to the right problems. In the middle of number three he starts going back to his drawing, adding detail to an arm, making it splotchy and dripping with blood.

He's reminded of his own injury again and feels heat wash over him along with anger.

He scribbles out the drawing and drops his pencil. balling up his fists and digging them into his eyes until he sees stars like the ones in faraway galaxies he's flown through, fireworks like the explosions from alien guns, static like on channels 1007 - 1682 on the interdimensional television stations.

He lets out a groan of frustration as he blinks back to reality, only to see the butter robot sitting on the corner of his desk. It's powered off but the lens feels like an eye, staring at him for being a fucking idiot.

Rick, whether he meant to or not, has permeated every corner of Morty’s life, and he was fucking sick of it.  
  
The flush of his cheeks turned from rage to thrill as he turns to the next page and feverently works on his newly formed plan for revenge, his sudden insight and drive blossoming from passion.

Rick’s going to fucking pay, he's thinking, as he scribbles out his scheme in bullet points and pictures, crossing out lines and adding arrows.

The result is something more comprehensive than any of his school assignments have ever been, something that leaves him shaky with excitement and nerves. He feels proud of himself, kind of giddy with the unfamiliarity of self confidence. The voice in his head is telling him anyone could think of this, that Rick probably planned in advance for anything like this, but he ignores his conscience in favor of the butterfly thrill he gets from devising something so risky.

He rips out the paper and shoves it in his math textbook, something only he ever opens, and rarely at that.

Morty leaves the room with a spring in his step and his head in the clouds, only returning to reality when it's by an unpleasant awakening.

He bumps into someone in the hall. “ _MomDadSummer_?” his mind races, trying to think of whose home and why they aren't yelling right now.

He looks up.

“Morty,” says Rick, his voices slathersed in uncharacteristic evenness and the familiar stench of alcohol, “Let's - let's go on an adventure, Morty. Just you,” he pauses to burp, “and me.”

Morty feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, bringing his skin tone down three shades along with it.

He wants to scream at him, tell Rick something is coming back to get him, but he bites his tongue.

“N-n-no way, Rick. I need - need a break for all your shit, okay?” Not really a lie, not at all.

Rick either doesn't buy it or doesn't care.

“Listen, M-Morty, I’ll tell you what. We go on this - this bad boy, and then you can have a break for as _loooong_ as you want.”

Rick has to have something up his sleeve. Or he's going to think of something. Or he’s saying his plan outright and Morty’s just too fucking stupid to see it.

Morty thinks about Rick and he thinks about his plan. And he thinks about how sometimes Rick doesn't push him around and keeps his promises and everything is alright in the end.

Maybe this was one of those times, where everything would work out all nice and neat, a little bit of organization to spit on Rick’s chaotic world. The cherry on top of the sundae.

“Rick, you - you - you better not be lying again.” he finally says. He forces confidence into his voice and hears it falter with every stutter.

“What fucking incentive do I have to lie to you, huh Morty? C - c’mon, trust your old,” He burps, “Grandpa Rick, alright?”

Five minutes later, Morty is leaning his head against the cool glass of the ship. The galaxy rushes past them and Morty tries to enjoy the ride, unsure if where they’re going is going to compare to their last adventure.

As far as both him and Rick are concerned, it has better not be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still kind of filler-y, sorry about that. should pick up soon. might end up condensing and revising this whole thing later on

**Author's Note:**

> sort of a preface right now, but will definitely be continued


End file.
